


a crown's a crown

by Vienne



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: 3 times + 1, Drinking, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Kevin-centric, give aftg characters friends 2k20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23231362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vienne/pseuds/Vienne
Summary: Three times someone realized Kevin Day was more than just an Exy-obsessed asshole, and one time someone already knew..Nicky doesn’t really know why Kevin’s been alternating between generous gulps of vodka and expressing his misery through glaring. It could be any number of things; Kevin’s a moody guy.It’s just the two of them at the table, and the silence is stretching to be almost awkward. Aaron’s ditched today, and Andrew seems to have whisked Neil into a corner to do… whatever.Nicky contemplates saying something, anything to kill the uncomfortable lull. He and Kevin–well, they’re not exactly a great example of a friendship, and it’s probably an indifferent relationship of association, if Nicky really wants to say it like it is.
Relationships: Kevin Day & Allison Reynolds, Kevin Day & Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Kevin Day & Jean Moreau, Kevin Day & Nicky Hemmick
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	a crown's a crown

1\. Dan

“Can I ask you something?”

Dan’s fingers pause in her typing for a moment. “No.”

Kevin makes some offended noise, and the sound of it is enough to make Dan whirl around in her swivel chair. 

“Ten seconds,” says Dan testily. “Go.”

Kevin opens his mouth in what’s probably a protest, then seems to think better of it. “I need your help in fixing things with Wymack.”

“Seriously?” Dan asks. “Look, you fucked up there, man. The fact that you’re his biological kid is something you should have told him a long time ago, and you know how much it hurt him to find out.”

Kevin frowns. “I think it would have been bad news however he found out.”

“Not the point. Even if he does eventually forgive you, I honestly don’t know if you deserve it.”

“I know, okay?” Kevin exhales harshly. “But you don’t understand; if I told him, and if he tried to go after the Moriyamas, knowing would’ve killed him.”

Dan refrains from rolling her eyes. “That was then,” she says. “And so ignoring him for months after you told him was still helping him?”

He shakes his head, like he’s pleading with her to understand. “I couldn’t-”

“You didn’t,” Dan tells him as gently as she can. “There’s a difference.”

Kevin tangles his finger together uncomfortably. It’s almost shocking, thinks Dan. Kevin is expressive, and doesn’t hesitate in displaying his emotions with the Foxes, but she’s never seen that same intensity directed at something that’s not Exy. And it’s not like Dan hasn’t spent her fair share of time with Kevin. 

“I’m trying to fix it,” Kevin tells her, determination and shame flashing in his face. He’s painfully sincere, fists clenching and unclenching. There’s something in his furrowed brow that reminds Dan of Wymack, and she hates that she can see the resemblance. 

Dan groans, “Fucking fine.” Helping Kevin Day, sociopathic striker with a selection of trauma like a candy store, reconcile with his estranged father, who is incidentally Dan’s father figure—well, this might be a bad idea. “We can talk.”

2\. Allison

There’s a certain serenity to the PSU gym in the early morning: the empty equipment, that faint, lingering whiff of sweat, the pale patterns the sparse sunlight prints on the ground. 

Allison’s definitely familiarized herself with the medley collection of exercise rooms. Her morning workout has been every other day, 6:45 to 7:30, for the past year and a half. The routine of it is comforting after so long, and god knows that the Foxes need a little more calm. 

That familiarity, that routine, is precisely why it’s so disconcerting when Kevin walks in with a taped left thumb and a duffel bag. 

He’s lost his trademarked ‘uptight and probably in the middle of another breakdown’ expression in favor of something, well, softer. His chestnut hair is still sleep-mussed, and the normally harsh line of his mouth has been smoothed over. 

Kevin’s peaceful appearance is so absolutely jarring, Allison suddenly gets the irrational feeling that she’s the intruder here. 

She’s kind of digging the cobalt blue shorts he’s got on, though, but the rumpled, baggy tee isn’t the greatest look–wait, is that–?

“Nice hickey,” Allison calls out gleefully. 

Kevin flushes deeply, a hand flying up to cover his collarbone. 

This day just gets better and better. 

“I meant the one on your neck,” says Allison, amusement leaking into her tone. Kevin hears it too, if his half-hearted glare is anything to go by. 

“Thea’s visiting this weekend,” he mutters in lieu of an explanation.

“Nice,” Allison tells him sincerely. “Tell your girlfriend I said hi, and also that she played a good game against the Cardinals last week.”

Kevin starts, looks at her in a moment of reconsideration. “I–sure.”

Allison nearly leaves it at that. She nearly goes on with her workout as Kevin starts to stretch, but some obscure whim, the kind that made her refuse her mother's money and play Exy, pulls at her throat.

“Hey, Kevin,” says Allison, wondering what the fuck she might be doing. “C’mere?”

Kevin walks over, a little bemused, but he’s still humoring her and that counts for something, too. 

“Look,” says Allison, brandishing her phone. 

Kevin peers down. It’s a Instagram post of Jeremy Knox, Sara Alvarez, and Laila Dermott. They’re all in gym clothes, and it’s racked up a decent amount of likes. Allison suspects that Jean Moreau was the one to take the pic, but she doesn’t know how well Kevin would take that, considering. 

“I know you’ve got some kind of broner for Knox,” says Allison. 

Kevin’s eyebrows shoot up. “Broner?”

Allison continues like he hasn’t said anything. “But I’m feeling competitive, and we can take way better gym selfies.”

“Sure,” says Kevin after a moment of consideration. “Why not?”

Allison grins. Something thrums in her, a satisfaction. It feels like she’s sealed something, like she’s beat the boss of a game she didn’t even know she was playing.

3\. Nicky

Nicky swallows down the vodka with only the smallest grimace of disdain. In all honesty, Nicky generally prefers his alcohol to taste like anything but alcohol, but here he is.

Anyway, Kevin seems like he needs it. 

Nicky doesn’t really know why Kevin’s been alternating between generous gulps of vodka and expressing his misery through glaring. It could be any number of things; Kevin’s a moody guy.

It’s just the two of them at the table, and the silence is stretching to be almost awkward. Aaron’s ditched today, and Andrew seems to have whisked Neil into a corner to do… whatever.

Nicky contemplates saying something, anything to kill the uncomfortable lull. He and Kevin–well, they’re not exactly a great example of a friendship, and it’s probably an indifferent relationship of association, if Nicky really wants to say it like it is.

Just as Nicky opens his mouth to say something about, he doesn’t know, Exy, probably, considering that seems to be the end-all and be-all with Kevin, Kevin turns on him suddenly.

Kevin’s eyes are startlingly focused for someone who’s nearly drunk a full gallon. Nicky thinks, not for the first time: that’s a pretty shade of brown. Like dark honey, or burnished gold, framed by thick lashes. 

“How can you even relax?” questions Kevin conversationally, in a genuinely curious tone, his eyes glassy again.

“What d’you mean?” asks Nicky. “You’re gonna need to elaborate there, Kev.”

Kevin frowns, resting his chin on top of his folded arms. “Knowing that people know about you. That you’re gay.”

Nicky nearly snaps back, but it’s not like Kevin’s doing it to be offensive or rude. He’s civil, and hurtful doesn’t seem to be his intention.

“I don’t think I could live with myself if I kept hiding my sexuality,” replies Nicky honestly.

“They wouldn’t let me,” mumbles Kevin, so softly Nicky nearly misses it. 

Nicky pauses at that, his mouth still poised over the tumbler. 

“Edgar Allan,” Kevin clarifies. “My contract had this clause.”

“Hold up,” says Nicky, reeling. “Are you saying the Ravens stop their players from coming out if they’re not straight? Are you not straight?”

“There was this clause,” repeats Kevin. “Nicky, I’m bi.”

And then Kevin passes out.

Aaron helps Nicky drag Kevin outside before dumping him unceremoniously in the backseat with Neil and Andrew, both of whom he immediately collapses against, limbs akimbo.

Andrew makes a face, but he doesn’t maim anyone, so Nicky counts it as a win.

Nicky hesitates for a moment before closing the door on them.

All the things Nicky needs to say–Kevin’s always needed support, and maybe he’s been lacking in that particular department.

Nicky can tell Kevin everything Kevin should hear in the morning, decides Nicky, even if both of them are hungover as hell. 

(+1) Jean

“It is probably true,” Jean tells his therapist. “That I would have died at Edgar Allan if not for Kevin Day.”

“Do you want to talk about that?” 

Jean frowns, and he rubs at a scar on his left hand. “I don’t know,” says Jean. This is the third time Jean has willingly offered information to the woman in front of him. It’s also the 5th week of therapy. It’s tiring, all said and done, giving away his weaknesses. His heart races in the unassuming room, salmon wallpaper and all, even when he doesn’t speak. 

“That’s fine,” says his therapist calmly. “This is so you can feel safe.”

“Kevin and Thea made me safe,” blurts out Jean. His heart pounds desperately, an aching throb against his ribs.

Her fingers pause in her typing. She takes notes, this is something Jean knows in a rational sense, but documents can be found and Riko sees every weakness, every falter, and–

“Jean?”

“Right,” says Jean, a little faintly. He blinks hard. 

Riko is not here. 

“Thea was my partner,” says Jean slowly, staunchly avoiding eye contact. “Not like--we were both backliners. We were assigned to each other, for, what, two years? And Kevin… Kevin was my mirror.”

“How so?”

Jean smiles then, and it feels broken and awful on his face. “God, I don’t know. It’s - it’s like looking at myself, only warped. Opposites.” Jean closes his eyes for a moment, opens them again. “Two and three. Striker and backliner.” Jean pauses again. “Half of our scars are in the same places.”

“It sounds like you went through a lot together,” says his therapist, neutral but not unkind.

“We were Stockholm Syndrome siblings,” Jean responds wryly. “I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“You’re doing fine,” she offers a smile in return, “but unfortunately, our time’s run out. I think it could be helpful to explore the topic further later--does next Thursday work?”

. 

The first time Kevin tries to call, Jean doesn’t pick up.

.

Kevin tries again, and the small fact that he didn’t just quit after the first time is enough to move trembling fingers to the screen.

It’s silent for a terrible moment when Jean brings the phone to his ear. 

“Hi,” says Kevin awkwardly, just a little too loud.

Jean wants to laugh. Even as Kevin wears a queen tattoo, orange jerseys, and a fragile, haughty bravery, he’s still—recognizable.

I know you, Jean wants to say, wants to scream, just because it’s true. Kevin is Kevin is Kevin, and that simple fact feels like a blow to the chest. He doesn’t know why he expected anything else. 

“Hey,” replies Jean.


End file.
